by Andrew Rowe
Banks snapped her fingers, and Velas felt a wave of sound sorcery pass her. She barely resisted the urge to interact with it during the instant of contact.
“Stop, right there!” The voice was unmistakably Landen’s, and it was coming from inside the room. “Drop your weapon!”
“Remember, this is a simulation,” the Second Lieutenant assured her. “Dominion of Protection, form a layer of armor around Applicant Velas.”
Banks pressed a hand against Velas’ shoulder, and the former Queensguard felt the familiar sensation of a suit of incorporeal armor wrapping around her. She knew from experience that the spell would dampen, but not completely absorb, any attacks that struck her – at least until the armor was destroyed.
“The people inside will be shielded as well?” Velas asked.
The Second Lieutenant nodded, and Velas heard the clash of steel on steel. “You may begin.”
Velas snapped into focus, immediately playing into the simulation. “Sir, I believe I hear combat in the briefing room!”
Banks frowned, which Velas took as a sign that she wasn’t expecting to be included in the simulation. “Go see what it is. I’ll seek out help.”
“Yes, Sir!”
Velas spun around, drawing her sword and rushing to the door. She heard a thump inside, followed by a groan. She grabbed the door handle and turned it, immediately taking a defensive stance while she scanned the room.
A black-cloaked figure was standing over Landen, who was lying face-upward on the floor, his twin swords both lying out of his reach. He had visible cuts – real or fake? – on both of his arms, and his uniform was cut over his chest, but she couldn’t see any injury to his torso from the current angle.
The figure that loomed above him was dressed in all black, wearing a white neutral mask and a voluminous black cloak. The gender of the figure was indeterminate, but he or she was carrying a single long sword – paladin standard issue – and looked to be about ready to plunge it into Landen’s chest.
A stereotypical assassin. Not a thing like the reality, but I get the point.
“Stop!” Velas shouted, drawing the figure’s attention. “I’ve already called for help. This place will be swarming with paladins in minutes. Landen there is a low-value target. He’s just a cadet. Killing him will accomplish nothing for you. Surrender now and we will give you a chance to explain yourself.”
Somehow, in spite of the mask, she thought she could see the assassin’s eyes narrowing in scrutiny.
Then he turned and ran, throwing something at the floor behind him as he moved.
Landen was roughly in the center of the room. Velas judged that that the other door – which led deeper into the building – was about five meters away from the assassin. A glance at the floor quickly identified what the assassin had thrown – caltrops, designed to slow down pursuit. With motion sorcery, she normally could have quickly covered the distance between them, but the caltrops would make that trickier. If she jumped, and then used a burst of motion to push herself across the room—
But maybe I’m thinking about this the wrong way. Maybe catching the assassin isn’t the most important part of this test.
She rushed to Landen’s side, throwing off her backpack, eyes following the assassin while he rushed into the next room.
“What’re you doing, Vel? Get after him!” Landen coughed, clutching at his chest. It was a fake wound – she could see that clearly now that she was up close – but he was putting up a good performance.
“That’s not my priority right now. I already raised the alarm – he’s not getting away. Now, how do you feel?”
She examined the injuries, noting something that looked sickly greenish mixed with his blood.
“I feel like I just got sliced open a few times. Should be fairly evident, yeah?”
“Don’t smart talk me. Can you raise your right arm?”
His arm shuddered slightly, but didn’t move.
“Resh. Okay.” She opened her backpack, swiftly finding her medical kit. “How much pain would you say you’re in?”
“Quite a lot, actually. More than these little cuts should be. Listen, Vel, he got the drop on me –”
“I don’t need excuses, I need to diagnose you. Remain calm and keep your breathing stable.”
Landen frowned. “All right.”
“Are you feeling any tingling in your extremities?”
“Yeah, a little, now that you mention it. And a buzzing in my left ear.”
Velas let out a curse, grabbing a coil of rope from her bag. It was the best thing she could think of. “Bite down on this.”
He blinked, but complied when she shoved the coil in his mouth.
“This is going to hurt. A lot.”
She retrieved an empty flask from the medical kit, as well as two vials, and poured in some of each vial. “Three quarters adenis root extract, one quarter vespas leaf,” giving the ingredients out loud for the benefit of whatever judges were obviously watching the exchange. It was the specific antidote to Sythus viper venom, which was the poison his symptoms seemed to indicate he was suffering from. Normally, his eyes would also be dilated, but she expected that they didn’t go to the extreme of faking that for the test.
Once the liquid was mixed, she poured it on the chest wound. It sizzled on contact, causing Velas’ eyes to widen briefly. That was supposed to happen if it was real poison – she hadn’t expected a reaction to occur.
Whoever faked the alchemical portion of this took it very seriously. I wonder if I was supposed to test his blood for the poison somehow…but I don’t have a way to do that quickly. I suppose if it’s always the same test regardless of who is participating, they might have put some real venom on his uniform in case a knowledge sorcerer decided to test it.
“It should be working,” she said. Landen gritted his teeth against the rope, twitching on the floor and moaning slightly. His acting was pretty good, considering he probably wasn’t in any actual discomfort. Hopefully.
Next, she mixed another batch of the antidote, pouring it on his other two wounds. It reacted similarly. She had worried briefly that he might have been exposed to multiple poisons, but the attacker only had a single visible weapon, and mixing poisons on a single blade was rare.
“You feeling any better?” Velas asked. Landen weakly shook his head. “Fair enough. Probably will take you a few hours to feel any better. If you said you were, I’d think you were lying to get me to chase the assassin.” She grinned.
Landen spat out the rope. “You should go after him now, regardless.”
She shook her head. “Nope. He could loop back around to finish the job. My work isn’t finished until you’re on your feet.”
He moved a hand to try to push himself up, and she grabbed his wrist. “Don’t even think about it. You need a few hours, at a minimum. And you’re still bleeding, even if the poison is most likely neutralized. You still feeling the tingling in your hands?”
Landen shook his head. “No.”
“All right, let’s get you cleaned up.”
She tore the cut in his uniform wider, distributing a little bit more of the antivenom across the surface of his skin, and then retrieved a roll of bandages from her medical kit and began to wrap his chest. “Just relax. We’re going to get you better.”
“Sorry, Vel. I messed up,” he coughed, wincing afterward.
“Nonsense. I assume he cut you before you even saw him?”
Landen nodded weakly. He was sweating profusely, which was a little odd, given that he probably hadn’t actually been poisoned. “Yeah. Came here for my mission briefing, but no one was here – not anyone I could see, anyway. Heard something and turned around. The guy had sliced my left arm open before I could draw. Tried to talk him down, but I got weaker and weaker. Had to drop my left sword, then he found an opening.”
“Did you get a good look at him?”
Landen shook his head. “No. Did you see anything?”
Might be part of
the test. “He’s carrying a paladin issue sword, so he could be one of us.” She thought back, finishing the wrapping on his chest and beginning to bandage his arms. “His garb was unusual. Concealed his appearance, sure, but wearing a cloak like that is impractical. He looked more like a caricature than a real assassin. Not to say he wasn’t dangerous, of course. Throwing those caltrops means he was pretty well prepared. You’ve got good eyes and reflexes – if he got the drop on you, he’s probably a sight or shadow sorcerer.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” Landen gave a brief grin, but it faltered when she tightened the bandages around his left arm. “Don’t take these off. If the tingling returns, inform me immediately. Are you injured anywhere else?
He frowned. “Well, it’s a little embarrassing, but—”
“Nothing I haven’t seen before, I assure you.” She folded her arms. “Just treat me like a doctor.”
“Well, he hit me in the leg, but just below my—”
“Left leg or right leg?”
“Right,” he said, grimacing.
She leaned over, finding a slit in his pants that had been concealed by his position, cursing. She removed a pair of scissors from her pack, methodically snipping off the pant leg at just above the point of the cut. There was a thin line across his skin – just a graze. She mixed more of the antidote.
“This one’s not too bad, but this is still going to sting. Bite the rope.”
She offered the rope back to him, and he grudgingly bit down.
She was washing the wound when the door behind her burst open. Three armed and armored paladins – Banks in the lead – swarmed into the room.
“Jaldin, report!” Banks ordered.
Velas continued washing the wound, not pausing to salute. “A would-be assassin attacked Landen moments ago. He is carrying a paladin-issue long sword laced with Sythus viper venom. He is wearing a mask and a heavy cloak, and potentially carrying other weapons concealed within. He threw caltrops on the other side of the room to slow pursuit. Cadet Landen is poisoned and injured. He fought bravely, but the assassin had the element of surprise. Given that Landen did not immediately see anyone in the briefing room, the assassin may be a sight or shadow sorcerer, and whoever was supposed to be briefing Landen may be injured as well.”
“Good work, Cadet.” She gestured to the other two paladins with her. “Peters, Valoran, pursue the assassin. I’ll see if I can locate whoever was supposed to give the briefing.”
The two paladins swiftly moved past Landen and Velas. She watched them carefully, just in case one of them was going to make any sudden actions that would indicate betrayal.
When the two other paladins had made it to the other side of the room, one of them opened the door.
“And that concludes the test,” Banks said. “Cadet Jaldin, Cadet Landen, you may return to your quarters.”
Landen grinned and raised an arm to wipe off his forehead, his pained expression fading immediately. “Nice work there, Vel. Thanks for saving me.”
She reached down and offered him a hand to help him stand, which he accepted. “Sure. Sorry about your pants, though.”
He shrugged. “Hey, if I’m going to have my pants cut off, you’re the first person I’d want to do it.”
“Charmer.” She grinned, turning back to Second Lieutenant Banks. “How’d I do?”
The second lieutenant’s expression was neutral. “You’ll find out when everyone’s tests are completed. Dismissed.”
She’s no fun at all.
Velas saluted, and Landen quickly mirrored the gesture.
“C’mon. Let’s get you some new pants.”
Chapter XI – Lydia III – Hints of a Broader Game
Lydia stared at her pieces on the board, inching a hand toward one of the mounted knights on the right side. Across the table, Nakane sat with her hands folded in her lap, her expression neutral.
I probably should have asked Aladir for advice before letting Nakane convince me to play. I expected her go easy on a beginner. I apparently expected wrong.
Her deliberations were interrupted by the sound of one of the house guards approaching. He bowed to Nakane, who gestured for the man to speak.
“M’lady, there are visitors at the gate. They claim to be acquaintances of Miss Hastings.”
Nakane turned her head toward Lydia, quirking an eyebrow. “Expecting visitors, Lydia?”
She nodded, though she couldn’t keep her expression completely neutral. Yes, but not so soon. “I believe those visitors will be the Thornguard contacts I mentioned.”
“Ah, of course. Elden, please bring them in. I will be quite interested to meet Lydia’s friends.” Nakane turned back toward Lydia as the guard moved to comply. “But don’t think this gets you out of our match.”
“Of course not.” The sorceress pushed up her glasses. “I was just warming up.”
Nakane cracked a grin – a rare sight, in Lydia’s experience. Perhaps she had smiled more when her brother was alive, but Lydia did not know the young woman well enough to judge.
Lydia stood up from the table and stretched, straightening out her tunic. Nakane stood as well, running fingers through her hair, and then turning her head toward the sound of approaching footsteps.
Jonan was better dressed than usual, indicating an unusual level of awareness of social conventions on his part. His red tunic matched one of the colors of House Theas, indicating a degree of respect and solidarity. He wore grey trousers with knee-high black boots, which Lydia noted to be common among higher class citizens this year. He was cleanly shaven for what was, as far as Lydia could guess, probably the first time ever. His brown hair also looked to have been trimmed short and slicked back.
Not bad, Jonan. You could probably pass for a Thornguard – which is probably your intention.
Seeing his companion lent a degree of context to his unusually pristine appearance. Her indigo eyes, completely lacking sclera, were just as striking as Lydia remembered from their days in Orlyn’s courts. She had rarely encountered the so-called goddess Vorain, but the woman was unmistakable in spite of her own change in garb. Gone were the flowing rune-etched robes of office, replaced by a simple Thornguard tabard over a mail hauberk. The armor covered to just below her waist and was cinched by a belt carrying a long, thin-bladed dueling sword. Her trousers and boots were a perfect match for Jonan’s.
“My lady Nakane,” Jonan offered, stopping several feet away and bowing at the waist. “It’s my utmost pleasure to meet you. I am Jonan Kestrian, scribe to the Thornguard, and this is my companion V—”
“Vorianna, m’lady,” the Rethri woman cut in, bowing as well. “Also with ‘te Thornguard. Pleasure.”
Vorianna? Really? That’s the best they could come up with?
“You are both welcome guests in my home, Thornguards. What brings you here?” Nakane looked at Vorain, openly appraising the young woman. If she had any knowledge of Vorain’s other identity, she didn’t betray it in her expression – just a degree of curiosity and interest.
Lydia took the moment to shoot Jonan a quizzical look, which he replied to with an exaggerated wink.
“Well, Jonan heard from your Lydia,” Vorain pointed helpfully at the sorceress, “That you’d be needing a couple extra sets of hands. I’ve got me some time to kill, bein’ on leave an all, and lost a bet to this bastard besides. So, here we are.”
“Here you are, indeed.” Nakane turned her gaze toward Jonan, “Lydia spoke quite kindly of you, but she did not indicate that you were a simple scribe. I was under the impression she had contacted you to see if the Thornguard could provide me with additional protection, given the absence of a response from her own organization.”
Jonan nodded. “Yes, that’s right. Lydia and I are old friends, you see. We go way back.”
Eight months and change, Lydia noted.
“And?” Nakane prompted.
Jonan shrugged a shoulder. “And here we are. Oh, if you’re worried that
we’re not a sufficient force, don’t be. Vorianna here is one of our best, and if you need to be defended against any sort of paperwork, I’m your man.”
“Intriguing. And what sort of paperwork defense do you provide?”
“Well,” Jonan lifted his right hand, opening his palm, “I find it best to be thorough.”
A sphere of orange flame flickered to life in his hand. Even from a distance, Lydia could feel the heat emanating from the orb – which meant something important.
That’s real fire. That’s…new. Either that, or he just never shared the talent with me before. Strange that he’d choose this moment to demonstrate the skill if he was deliberately hiding it in the past, however. What would that imply?
“Ah, a fire sorcerer. Very well, I suppose you have an applicable skill after all.” Nakane nodded appreciatively. “You can dismiss that now.”
Jonan closed his hand, the flame disappearing as he made the gesture. “I’ve heard you’re quite the talented sorceress yourself, Miss Theas. Perhaps we could trade some tricks while I’m here.”
“I doubt that. Your assassin’s sorcery leaves a poor taste in my mouth.” She hesitated for a moment, her eyes narrowing, and then added, “But I won’t discount the idea entirely.”
“Excellent,” Jonan said. “And if the thought appeals to you more, I can certainly share my limited experiences with the local methods.”
Nakane waved a hand dismissively, turning to Vorain. “And you, Thornguard? What can you do?”
“Quite good with a sword, miss. Quite good.” The former goddess tapped the hilt of her sword appreciatively.
“Very well.” Nakane turned to Lydia. “I suppose they’ll be sufficient for now, but I’d feel more comfortable if you or Aladir remain present as well. My mother has grown accustomed to your presence, and I suspect your departure would make her uncomfortable.”
Lydia nodded. “I’ll make sure at least one of us checks in on you periodically. You can trust these two, however. They’re being quite humble about their skills, I assure you.”
